


None to Spare

by serfing_lords15



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serfing_lords15/pseuds/serfing_lords15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne is tired of listening to Jaime's insults all the time. If only she was clever enough to come up with her own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	None to Spare

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know if this has been done before, but here goes.

“Wench, keep your guard up! By the gods, how have you survived this long? I swear, if you met a squire right now he would be able to cut off your head without dropping his wine flask!”

Brienne gritted her teeth, easily blocking Jaime’s clumsy thrust, “Then tell me, ser, how I’ve been able to keep you from landing a blow for the past four matches?”

“Hm. Well, luck, I’d presume. I also have a bit of a handicap, if you haven’t noticed.” Jaime held up his severed arm while wildly slashing at Brienne’s torso. She knocked his sword away.

“And by the way, I’m letting you win.”

“Is that so, ser? I assure you, I’m not a proper lady in need of your chivalry. I can handle myself just fine.”

“Nonsense! All ladies have need of my chivalry, even ones as ugly and ungainly as yourself.” Jaime slashed again, and Brienne ducked, meeting his next strike with her own and sending Jaime’s sword halfway across the courtyard. She smirked. Jaime thought his insults would distract her, but they seemed to be more of a hindrance to him than they were to her.

Jaime looked over at his sword, which a squire had already retrieved, “Well wench, I think that’s enough for one day. Tomorrow, same time, same place. I expect that you’ll work on keeping that sword up. You can’t have it hanging limply by your side in the heat of battle, which you might know if you’ve ever seen real battle.”

Brienne glared at Jaime as he recovered his sword from the squire. His insults had become increasingly volatile as the days went by. She guessed that it had something to do with the fact that as they sparred, Brienne was beating Jaime more and more easily. She was getting better (he had actually proved to be an excellent teacher) while he was getting weaker. Still, Brienne did not appreciate the constant barrage of insults she was subjected to in the yard. Sure, she was used to it, but hearing about her mannish stature and hideous face from the one person who was supposed to be her friend (or comrade-in-arms, whatever) actually hurt. She wished that she was witty and clever enough to respond to his insults with jabs of her own, but the only thing she could ever do was remind him that she always won their sparring matches, which only made him angrier and produced more foul comments. The only other thing she could think of was calling him Kingslayer, but that seemed a bit much to Brienne. She would just have to endure his abuse until she suddenly became witty or cut off his other hand to stop their daily sparring matches.

* * *

“Ah, wench, there you are. Care to join me for dinner?”  
Brienne turned to face Jaime, who had snuck up behind her while she was strolling in the gardens. It was the only ladylike hobby that she didn’t mind.

“Um, don’t you have dinner with your family?”

“Yes, usually, but I was hoping to avoid that. As you know, I hate my family. Well, Tyrion is bearable, but not when he has to drown himself in his cup to be around the rest of the Lannisters.”

“Well…”

“Oh come now wench, doesn’t it say something that I’d rather stare at your homely face than spend time with my own flesh and blood?”

Brienne fumed, “I -”

“Excellent! I knew you couldn’t resist my charm. I’ll have the squires bring out a meal for us in the courtyard. Maybe we can see how much you’ve been practicing.” Jaime picked up his pace and continued down the garden path. Brienne stood still, not knowing whether to be angry or just confused. She settled on a mixture of the two, and with a shake of her head started back towards her room.

* * *

A while after she had spoken with Jaime, Brienne heard a knock on the door to her quarters. When she opened the door, there stood a squire, the same one who had retrieved Jaime’s sword earlier in the day.

“Ser Jaime Lannister requests that you join him for dinner at this time. I will escort you to the courtyard.”

How pompous. Brienne rolled her eyes, but nevertheless followed the boy out of her room. She expected to see a grand feast laid out in the yard, but when they arrived there was only Jaime sitting at a small table with two plates of pork and vegetables.

“Put on your best clothes for the occasion I see. Wench, I’m flattered, but there’s no need to woo me. I can be alluring enough for the both of us.”

Brienne scoffed and lowered herself into the seat opposite Jaime. She was wearing the same clothes she had on in the practice yard.

“Shall we make a toast?” Jaime raised his glass as soon as Brienne’s rear touched the seat. “To being able to avoid family gatherings whatever the cost!” He took a large gulp of his wine, then as an afterthought, added, “And friendship, camaraderie, yadda yadda. Now dig in, wench.” Jaime stabbed a few of his vegetables and shoved them into his mouth. Brienne sighed and started in on her slab of meat.

Once Brienne had eaten her way through half of her plate, she looked up to see Jaime struggling with his pork. He had it skewered on his fork and was trying to take bites out of it without cutting it first. It looked as if the pork was repeatedly slapping him in the face, which would have been comical had it not been so pathetic.

Brienne reached towards Jaime’s fork, intending to cut the pork for him. “Need a hand?”

Jaime froze and looked at Brienne with amazement. When what she had said registered, a slow grin spread out across her face.

“I meant in the metaphorical sense, but I guess you could take it literally as well.” Jaime just kept staring, then lowered his head in defeat and handed over his fork with the pork attached. Brienne started cutting it into bite-size pieces, smiling all the while.

* * *

It was relentless.

Ever since the wench had accidently come up with a somewhat witty insult during their dinner, she would pop up at the most inopportune times to offer him help. When he was not able to hold both sword and shield during their practice sessions, when a clasp came loose on his armor, whenever he was eating dinner, she was always there with that satisfied smirk and those three dreaded words, “Need a hand?” Hells, she would probably start showing up when he was undressing for the baths! _Although_ an inner voice chided _that might not be so bad._

Jaime had taken to saying fewer and fewer things to Brienne in the hopes of keeping her quiet. Their sparring sessions were nearly silent now, save for the clash of swords and heavy breathing. But even though he had curbed his insults, Brienne was not showing any signs of giving up on her one clever slight towards Jaime.

Jaime was walking around the woods near the castle, trying to stay away from the wench. He was wondering he could make his squires do everything for him, from cut his dinner to undress him at night, just to show Brienne that he actually had more than enough hands, thank you very much! After a few hundred yards, lost in thought, Jaime glanced up to see the wench walking towards him. He cursed and tried to double back, but she had already spotted him and sped up.

“Hello, ser-“ Brienne called out, but before she had finished her greeting, she disappeared from view. Jaime blinked, wondering if the gods had had mercy on him for once, but then heard a muffled voice coming from below. He cautiously made his way to where Brienne had disappeared, and saw a large hole dug in the ground. At the bottom was Brienne, sitting on a pile of leaves and looking as bewildered as he was.

“Jaime?” she craned her neck to see him standing at the edge of the pit, “What… um…”

“Well wench, it appears that you’ve fallen into a bear trap.” Jaime chuckled, “You’re lucky there weren’t spikes at the bottom.”

Brienne rose to her feet, wincing, “But I thought there weren’t any bears in these woods?”

“Then you’re smarter than the hunter that made this.” Jaime stayed at the mouth of the pit, staring down at Brienne. She put her hands on her hips, “Well?”

“Well what?” Jaime feigned ignorance. She huffed.

“Well, are you going to help me out of this or not?”

“Why wench, do you…” he paused, “need a hand?”

She snarled, “I guess so.”

“Well since you asked so nicely…” Jaime reached out his right hand, then pulled it back, surprise evident on his face. “By the gods! I’m sorry wench, but it doesn’t look like I have one to spare.” Jaime retreated from the hole, smirking as he walked back to the castle amidst Brienne’s yelling. He would come back for her… in an hour or so.


End file.
